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Too bad I’d already resolved not to touch the money. I grimace, shaking my head. “I didn’t marry you for money, Zahir. I think that unnecessarily confuses matters. The only thing I ask of you is that you allow my father to return. That’s the sum total of what I want from all this.”
His eyes burn me with their intensity. “And yet, you can relieve yourself of this debt immediately, removing that worry for yourself and your father. Why would you not do that?”
I lift one shoulder. “I just – don’t like the idea of it.”
His frown pulls at something in my gut, so I find it hard to look at him and impossible to look away. It isn’t just that he’s handsome, it’s that he’s fascinating and mysterious, all at once. Before he can question me further, I change the subject.
“Why doesn’t Aliya like me?”
His eyes widen. “Your aid?”
I nod.
Beneath the table, he shifts his legs, capturing mine again. I fight a wave of desire, concentrating on our conversation with all my might.
“She is traditional.”
“And I’m American.”
“It has less to do with that than the fact you’re a Hassan. Her parents served my parents. She’s seen too much to welcome you with open arms.”
I consider that. “So why did you appoint her to me?”
Again, he shows surprise. “She is one of the most senior female members of the household staff. It was appropriate, given her experience.” He pauses, considering that for a moment. “If she makes you uncomfortable, I will have her removed from duties.”
“No, no,” I shake my head, instantly mortified at the idea of the other woman losing her job because of me. “Don’t be silly. I can handle it. She does her work well, it’s just apparent that she doesn’t think very highly of me.”
“She doesn’t know you,” he points out. “All she has to go on is your parenthood, and the ancient hatred that exists between our families.”
“Much like you,” I remind him quietly.
He leans across the table and I hold my breath, because it feels as though he’s going to kiss me, and I want that, so, so badly. “I am starting to know you, azeezi.”
“And?” I whisper, leaning closer myself, wanting to close the distance between us completely.
His smile is laced with cynicism. “And you are nothing like I expected.”
Chapter 5
Zahir
I KNOW ONE THING FOR CERTAIN.
I can’t stay in this tent with her another night. It’s a miracle I made it through a second night in this too-narrow bed. Owing to the heat, Amy wore even less– a pair of briefs and a singlet top, and I suspect she knows exactly what her choice of sleepwear did to my heartrate.
Somehow though, I made it through, and all I could think was that I need to get back to the palace where I can put some goddamned space between her and me. A lot of space. American Football fields of it.
At first light, I get out of the bed and begin quietly packing down the tent, replacing items we’ve used, neatening it while she sleeps. Anything to keep my attention away from the fact she’s thrown the sheet off and is lying with her limbs sprawled, hair like a skein of gold.
This is ridiculous.
The honeymoon was a terrible idea. I don’t want to know my wife like this. I don’t want to think about her like this, yet she’s under my skin and I know that has to be because of our proximity. The palace will bring relief.
“Good morning.” Her voice is husky.
I grunt in response.
“You’re packing?” I hear the frown in her words and turn to face her, determined to keep my eyes on her face.
